Saving All My Love For You
by Gaosheng
Summary: It started off as a titillating love affair...that soon turned into the fiery passion of forbiden love...How will Serena choose between what she knows is right and what only her heart can tell her?
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Creativity strikes at weird times. I know I'm supposed to be working on LSFT, but I just had this urge to write this story, and so it goes I'm going to be starting a news series. This story is based upon a song sung by Whitney Houston called "Saving All My Love For You". The story of this song is just so beautiful and compelling to me, I just had to write a story. And so I hope you guys all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: All rights to Sailor Moon belongs to Naoko TAkeuchi.

Review please!

* * *

The flashing of the camera was like the crashing of lightning in the far distance; even though on the outside she was the rising star in the room, on the inside she felt as though she were a world away in a raging storm. As the photographer directed her, she quickly complied—flowing from one pose to the next with fluid grace—her faultless face, fierce and fragile, caught the light in such a way that she translated sheer perfection in her photos. With striking, vivid aqua eyes; lush, full lips; and a dainty, sophisticated nose; she did not need help from make-up to accentuate her good-looks.

The photographer inundated her with wonderful praise as he quickly flashed away. "Wonderful, darling," he would say, "Just like that, sweetie, you're a pro," or frequently, "Honey, your skin looks delicious—my God, it is flawless!" And though it was nice to hear that she looked beautiful, she just couldn't take the triviality of the photo shoot. Slowly her mind began to drift, and she found herself thinking about him again.

He was the last person she wanted to be thinking about. Try as she might, though, he kept popping up into her head. There were just so many emotions he elicited from within her: joy, sorrow, love, laughter, and most of all guilt. Guilt consumed her mind, crept into every corner and alley of her brain, and she was going crazy with it—she was sick of it. That's why she had decided long ago to simply stop thinking about him—stop seeing him.

But it was too late.

He had somehow become chocolate to her; something she knew she had to give up, but she kept going back for more; he was an indulgence, an addiction she could not quit. As bad as he was for her, she could not say no. A melancholic smile touched her lips as she acknowledged that truth. Her eyes mystified.

"Baby, baby, baby," the photographer sang excitedly, "That's brilliant—bloody brilliant! Just look up right here, doll face," he directed her, "What gave you the idea to exude such pain and sorrow in your eyes? I love it! I'm telling you it'll be your album cover!"

Snapping back to reality, she managed a half-hearted smile meant to acknowledge his comment. For five more minutes she had to endure the constant flashing of the studio lights, the watching eyes of executives, and the photographer's rain of remarks that were quickly starting to eat away at her nerves. She even began counting the minutes on the clock, feeling an emotional breakdown just threatening to explode from her.

"One last shot, sugar, so give me something sultry," the photographer cooed, and she gave him a playful wink that he ate up with delight. "Oh I love that!"

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she strode off the set with great intentions on going straight down to the awaiting car in the parking lot outside and ordering the driver to take her directly to her new apartment. Slipping off the five inch designer heels in a hurry, she stumbled slightly, and headed for the dressing room so she could take off her outfit. She had spent two hours getting glammed up for the photo shoot, and off it was to come in a matter of seconds. Her eye make-up was overly heavy, and all she wanted to do was take a nice wet towel and wipe it all off; also, the corset she wore was killing her, she could hardly breathe as it was a size too small for her so that it would push up her breasts.

"The price of beauty," she muttered under her breath as she ran a hand through her mass of loose honey-gold curls that fell around her shoulders, remembering how long it had took the stylist to get them in the perfect shape all morning. Too bad it looked like it was going to rain outside, she thought bitterly, knowing her hair was going to go flat at the first sign of moisture.

Getting into the dressing room, she quickly locked the door and began to change. As soon as she had undone the corset and was finally able to breathe freely, there was a knock on the door. Grabbing a robe hung across the chair in front of the small vanity, she put it on and tied it at the waist before asking, "Who is it?"

"Ms. Serena Tsukino?" A nervous voice replied.

"Yes, this is she. Who is it?" Serena repeated, leaning her ear against the door.

"Sorry, I'd hate to bother you, but it's important. I'm Jayla West; I work for your record label. I've got a call from the music producer requesting you to go to the studio."

Upon hearing this, Serena opened the door to ask what the reason the producer had given was, but Jayla simply shrugged, "He didn't give one. All he said was that it was urgent."

Serena slumped against the door frame and sighed heavily. "Thanks for telling me. I'll go right away."

"No problem," Jayla replied, and she smiled sympathetically. "Long day, huh?"

"Yeah, I was hoping to go home. But I guess it takes a lot more work to make it big, right?"

Jayla nodded agreement and half turned to go, but then turned around and said, "I'll tell your driver where you're going."

Feeling deeply gratified, and unworthy of her sympathy, Serena did the first thing that came to her mind. The small-town girl in her apparently must have remained intact through the whole glamorizing process, because she threw her arms around the woman she had just met and hugged her tightly. "Thank you," Serena said reverently before letting her go.

In stunned disbelief, Jayla—who looked to be in her mid-twenties, had dark olive skin and kind brown eyes—stared blankly at her. She recovered quickly though, and smiled in return, running a nervous hand through her boy-cut brown hair. "It's the least I can do," she replied and then disappeared around the corner.

* * *

"Hey Miss Up-and-coming-star, took you long enough to get here," a masculine voice drawled from behind her.

Serena whirled around and nearly clashed with the co-president of S&F Records. She blushed violently, and then realizing she almost made him spill his cup of coffee, she apologized profusely. With laughing green eyes, he stared down at her from his six feet tall height. Placing a friendly hand against her back, he directed her to the nearest elevator with him.

"We were stuck in traffic for half an hour," Serena explained fretfully, glancing up at the co-president, "I'm still not used to LA traffic; it's horrible! I think this is one of the reasons why I miss Crestwood so much."

"Yeah, that's the big city for you; horrible traffic, terrible air quality, and just too many people," he nodded in agreement. As the elevator doors closed behind them, he pressed the button with the number twenty-five on it. Taking a sip from his Starbucks Coffee cup, he said reassuringly to her, "Don't worry about it. I know we called you in here pretty late. You just had your first photo shoot, right? How did that go?"

Biting on her bottom lip, not wanting to totally crush the expectant look upon the blonde's face, Serena tried to answer as truthfully as she could, "It was definitely a new experience." But even to her, her voice sounded strained, and it was not believable. She winced as he gave her a knowing smile.

"You hated it, didn't you?" He laughed. "I have to say, Serena, you're a weird one. Thousands of girls across America would have loved to have your photo shoot."

Serena smiled, leaning her back against the elevator wall, feeling the soft vibrations as they continued going higher. "Well I guess I'm not like those thousands then," she replied brashly, winning a short chuckle from him. Changing the subject, Serena queried, "I hope I didn't have a lot of you guys waiting for a long time, Andrew."

"Oh no, not at all," Andrew answered, watching the numbers above the elevator doors climb from fifteen to sixteen to seventeen. "There was only two of us, and we had to discuss a few things too, so don't worry about being so late."

"How can you say that?" Serena teased lightly. "I feel so unprofessional keeping you guys waiting."

"Well if you really want to be professional, you should address me as Mr. Furuhata, not Andrew."

"Fine," Serena retorted, her eyes twinkling, "Mr. Furuhata."

"Relax," he said, rolling his eyes, "I'm teasing."

Slowly the elevator stopped and the doors swooshed open with a 'ping'. Stepping out onto the floor, there was a sweeping view of downtown LA through the enormous glass windows just beyond the elevator. Serena's breath always caught in her throat when she saw that view.

Seeing her awed expression, Andrew smiled. "You like?" He raised an arched eyebrow suggestively.

Serena turned to him and nodded emphatically. "Then there are moments like these, when I'm just staring out at such beauty, and I totally forget about my little hometown."

Andrew laughed loudly at her smart remark, opening the door against the wall adjacent to the window. And Serena smiled too as she walked through the door he held open for her. He was always laughing at her, Serena noted. Andrew thought she was just too naïve and small-town to be taken seriously—sure he truly thought that she had a gift for singing, but he really didn't believe that she would make it through the music industry still clinging on to her endearing, nice-girl personality. "Sooner or later," he once said to her, "They all change."

There was a polite cough from somewhere in the room, and Serena averted her gaze from Andrew's laughing face. Her heart nearly fell at the sight of him. Tall, dark and devastatingly handsome, Darien Shields looked up at her intensely over the packet of papers he had been reviewing from a desk in the recording studio. She froze like a block of ice under his gaze, feeling a cold flash seize her entire being. And it started all over again.

Her heart began beating faster. Thump. Thump. Thump. She could feel her throat clog up, and all of a sudden it was hard to breathe. Her hands were clammy and shaky, despite the fact that the studio was standard room temperature; and suddenly she could feel her temperature shoot up and she felt as though she were melting, like ice cream set out on a hot summer's day. It was amazing how he managed to do this to her every time. With her mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert, she nearly choked on her hello, right before she broke their lingering gaze. Damn his shocking, electric blue eyes, Serena cursed to herself.

"Ran into her on my way back with coffee," Andrew explained, oblivious to the intimate connection between the other man and woman. Taking off his suit coat, Andrew hung it on the back of a chair and went to take a seat beside the tousled, dark haired god sitting on the other side of the room.

Serena stayed where she was, unwilling to move, fearing she might get too close for comfort. Though she did not dare look, she could feel Darien's hot roving eyes roaming over her shapely figure—she could feel it as though he had put a hand on her and was caressing her—and her body shivered deliciously against her will, knowing that she should feel violated, repulsed, but she didn't. It excited her. Everything about him excited her.

"So, Serena," Andrew began slowly. "Why don't you take a seat? We've got a request for you."

Nodding silently, she grabbed one of the leather chairs and rolled it towards the two men. Together, Andrew and Darien made an intimidating pair, both were very good looking men, tall, extremely fit, and, of course, despairingly powerful in the music industry. Serena couldn't help but feel like a prisoner being brought to trial before them.

"Okay, so here's the thing," Andrew explained, picking up a folder and flipping it open, "We want you to do another song."

Confused, and somewhat stunned by Andrew's words, Serena gawked openly at the S&F of S&F Records. "So," she drawled uncertainly, "that means…what? I thought we've all ready finished recording the ten songs for my album and we were done. I mean, that's why I did the photo shoot today, right? It was for my album cover." Running her moist palms against her dark jean clad legs; Serena looked up apprehensively at Andrew.

"Well, yeah…" Andrew nodded amenably, snapping the folder shut, "But we've got this new song that's just been submitted and we think that you'll give it the right magic to make it a big record. It was meant for Rihanna—" Darien coughed loudly, interrupting Andrew, who then nervously amended, "_I_ wanted to give it to Rihanna, but Darien, here, thought that you would just totally smash this song and give it the proper sound it needs."

Serena glanced over at Darien. He was hiding behind his papers, his face aloof, uninterested. She wondered why it was that he had to regard her this way; it hurt her terribly, and at other times it infuriated her. Would it hurt if he was just a little more amiable like Andrew?

"What's it called?" Was all she could manage to get out of her mouth.

Andrew handed her a piece of paper. Taking it from his hands, Serena read aloud the title typed across the top of the page, "Loving you."

Nodding, Andrew went on to clarify any of the doubts she may have about the song. "It's not exactly a ballad, but it's definitely not a high energy dance song either—it's for sure got a funky, soulful tune that I think will go well with your tone though. So," he said, taking a brief breath, "We want to hear you run through it a couple of times, you know, just to see if everything meshes well. If it sounds good we'll add it as a bonus track on your album. Does that sound okay?"

She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but her face just betrayed everything that she was feeling. "Don't look too uncertain," Andrew coaxed gently, "Just sing it once, at least. Darien did write the song, and he really argued that he wanted you to sing it."

He had meant to appease her, but it was funny how people's intentions never get across the way they want it to. Serena became a nervous wreck. She could hardly believe that Darien wanted her to sing his song. His stoic and impartial demeanor hardly portrayed him to even care as to whether or not her career took off or went quickly flushed down the toilet. It was mind blowing to her, and she couldn't seem to comprehend it. She quickly glanced over at the stony man sitting silently beside Andrew again, just to see his reaction, but he remained apathetic, looking down at his Rolex wristwatch as though he'd rather be somewhere else.

"What do you say?" Andrew asked hopefully.

Letting out a deep breath, Serena nodded affirmative, "I'll give it a try."

"Good," Andrew smiled charmingly, and then slyly said, "We were going to make you sing it anyways."

At that, Serena let out a shout of laughter, totally taken by the coy look in Andrew's eyes and the boyish glee that spread across his face.

Darien sharply snapped his head up when he heard the musical laughter spilling from Serena's pretty mouth. Throughout the entire conversation he had remained as detached as he could, but he could not hide his attraction to the mystical sound of her laughter, so beautiful and uninhibited. Like a siren's song she managed to entrance him, bringing him to the brink of his destruction. Her face was a stunning sight when she laughed like that, and she looked positively delectable, with her face flushed and eyes sparkling so brightly. He always found her a temptation.

"Are you guys done talking?" Darien inquired with a slight hint of impatience just laced in his tone. His cold and calculating eyes lowered slightly as he scrutinized them. "I've waited over an hour for her to sing the song; let's just get her behind the microphone and see how she sounds, because it's almost eight and I've got places to be."

Irritated by his abruptness and frustrated with herself for letting him affect her so, Serena quickly went through the glass doors into the live room, leaving Darien and Andrew in the control room to set up. Haphazardly, she put on the headphones and glanced angrily at Darien through the window. He shared her same look of heated passion.

The soft notes of a piano danced smoothly in her ears, and slowly the melody was rich and vibrant and bold, full of ardor and desire. She felt this all through the music. It wowed her to the point of breathlessness with its beauty. Truly amazed at the type of brilliance Darien could compose, Serena's eyes darted up through the glass, seeking Dariens'.

Their gaze locked. Subtly, Serena trembled from the pure force of their connection. It was like they were gazing into each other's souls, reading each other's thoughts and feelings, and taking the other's heart in their hands and pressing it to theirs so that it could beat in time with their own. Heart to heart.

As the last note of the piano drifted to a complete stop, Serena felt as though her whole life had been told through the composition.

"Well?" Andrew asked, with a wide smile on his face. "Did you like it?"

Serena nodded, unable to shake the breathless splendor of that moment.

"Good! See," Andrew exclaimed, "I told you you would like it. Now you stay there, and Darien's going to come over to that side to play the guitar to teach you the lyrics."

She gulped imperceptibly. "Okay," she replied as calmly as she could. Her nerves were jumping around inside her at the mere thought that for the first time since they met, Darien was going to be working with her in close proximity.

As Darien walked through the door, he handed her several sheets of paper and quickly began. His demeanor was very business-like and professional. She liked that. Afraid that he was going to be flirtatious and glib, Serena had been prepared to walk out of the studio; instead, he conducted himself well, and proved to be, in fact, a very talented man—definitely driven, and fiercely devoted to his work. In the end, she was the one who was disappointed that he hadn't tried to make a move on her.

"Go through the song one more time," Andrew announced from the control room, listening to the playback of her recording. "It sounds good, but there's something missing in your vocals."

An hour had passed since they had started and Serena could feel the strain in her voice. She nodded, willing to give the song one more try. The music started, and then it suddenly stopped. Looking up from her lyrics, Serena stared in confusion through to the next room.

"Is something wrong?" Serena asked.

"Andrew, we can't go through it one more time. I've got places to go; it's nine o'clock at night, and I'm starving. And honestly, I don't think Ms. Tsukino can give you her best vocals right now, she's obviously too tired."

With a look that, to Serena, appeared to be disappointment, Darien glanced over at her, and then turned back to Andrew. He did not sound as though he would be swayed, "Let's meet here again tomorrow morning and continue from there."

Nodding in agreement, Andrew sighed, "Okay, but there goes another Saturday morning; can't a man sleep in anymore?" He sounded disgruntled, but there was a teasing smile on his face as he looked to Serena. "You okay with that, honey? Get your ass back in here tomorrow morning at eight."

"Yes, Master," Serena replied jokingly as she slid off her headphones.

Andrew laughed, "Look, Serena, I don't know what you and your lover do in bed, but if he's into the whole slave thing in the bedroom, don't you call me "Master" again—"

The door slammed shut on Andrew's last words.

Serena turned to look at the empty space that Darien had just occupied. He was gone. Shaking off his cold exit, Serena turned back to Andrew and remarked dryly, forcing a wry smile to her face, "Don't worry, I don't kiss and tell."

"What's up with, Darien?" She asked, looking over her shoulders at the closed door as though the dark haired man was still standing there.

Andrew shrugged. Grabbing his coat, he hung it over his arms and answered, "He's been on edge lately." Walking her to the door, Andrew stopped as he reached for the door knob. His voice dropped perceptibly. "I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but I'm pretty sure you see how he's been so cold lately, and I don't want you to get the wrong idea about him. Darien, you see, is going through some pretty rough times at home, so don't write him off just yet. Give him a few more weeks and he'll warm up to you."

"Rough times?" Serena gulped.

"Yeah, but that's all I can say," Andrew said apologetically, "If you want to know, just ask him—though I don't think he'll be terribly pleased with that."

Walking back into the twenty-fifth floor lobby, Andrew guided Serena to the elevators again, with his hand on the small of her back in a gentlemanly gesture. Coming to the elevator doors he pressed two buttons, one for the elevator to their right and one for the elevator to their left.

Serena looked up at him curiously.

"I'm going to go up to my office to pick up my stuff before going home. You can take this elevator down," Andrew clarified.

The metallic sliding doors of the elevator swooshed open to their left, Serena insisted Andrew take it first, and so he did. He waved goodbye and wished her a good night before closing the doors. Sighing with relief that the day was finally over, Serena stepped into her elevator when it came and pressed the button for the parking lot floor. Walking straight to the back of the empty elevator, she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. In her head, she registered the swooshing of the doors closing, but all of a sudden, she heard it open again. Her head quickly jerked back into place and her eyes flew open.

With one foot in the doorway, Darien stood there looking at her with an expression that could be set in stone. His granite features were sharp and rugged, his body lean and muscular; so masculine, that she felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach every time she set eyes on him.

"Going down?" He asked with a raised quirky eyebrow.

She nodded, tried to take a step further back, but realized that she was already up against the wall, and then settled for the corner.

They rode down the elevator in silence. Serena tried her best not to look over at him, but could not help her straying eyes. The minutes seemed like hours by the time they reached the bottom floor. She was so anxious to get out of the elevator that when the doors opened, she was the first to run out. Not bothering to look back at Darien as she half ran to her car, Serena was terribly disheartened when she heard him call to her.

"Ms. Tsukino," he said.

Serena turned hesitantly. "Yes?"

She watched as he raised an outstretched arm to her. "You dropped this."

Mortified and curious at what it was that she had dropped, she walked back towards him to see what he was holding in his hand. He met her half way, and without stopping, slipped the item into her hand, and continued on passed her without a single word of "see you later".

Slowly her hand clenched tight around the tiny crumpled piece of paper he had given her. She knew exactly what it was. Quickly shoving it into the pocket of her jeans, she walked to her car and tapped on the driver's window to wake up her sleeping driver. When they were finally on their way to her apartment, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the note.

Reaching up to turn on the light, she began to smooth out the paper. In the dim light, she saw seven words in Darien's fancy scrawl.

"My place. You left something of yours."

Serena groaned. Crushing the paper in her hand, she threw it onto the floor, and then directed the driver to a new address.

* * *

Darien's penthouse apartment in downtown LA was worth more than all of Serena's combined possessions. From the private elevator to the fancy glass doors of his abode alone probably cost him more than the money S&F Records was putting out for her career. Twenty-seven years old, with only six years in the business, Darien had already worked with and produced artists such as Nelly Furtado, Rihanna, Chris Brown, Shelly Mae, Corrine Bailey Rae, Janet Jackson and of course, Mina Aino (A.K.A. Sailor V). Voted number two next to Brad Pitt on E!'s "101 Hottest Male Celebrities", Darien's future was secured in the Hollywood spotlight for the rest of his life—or at least until he turned grey and ugly.

Standing outside the doors of his apartment, Serena debated whether or not to ring the doorbell or turn around and run for her life. There was something fishy about Darien's note to her. The entire car ride there, Serena had been racking her brain trying to figure out just what she could have possibly left at his place, but couldn't think of a single thing.

Could she have left her shoes? She wondered one last time. She contemplated it with one hand subtly poised in front of the buzzer, trying hard to remember just what it was she had brought with her the last time she came over, but was unsuccessful.

Her raised hand fell at her side. Serena sighed. She gave up. She didn't care what it was that he had of hers; she didn't want to risk her mental well-being stressing about him anymore. With one foot after the other she dragged her suddenly heavy body back towards the elevator doors. She congratulated herself quietly when she pressed the down arrow button beside the elevator; she was able to resist temptation. The doors glided open swiftly, making a smooth rushing sound.

It didn't drown out the click of a doorknob turning behind her though, and the creak of a door swinging open.

"Serena?"

She swiveled around unsteadily, feeling dread like no other consume her.

"Hi Aiden," she forced a bright, vibrant smile.

It was Darien's son. He was smiling at her in such a way that she felt guilt pierce her like a stake in the heart; his mouth stretched wide, baring his white youthful teeth. With hair the color of honey blonde and dark emerald eyes, he was in no way the image of Darien. Well, perhaps only in the devious look that sometimes they shared, but over all there was no resemblance.

Eight years old, Aiden was very smart for his age. When Serena first met him, he had blown her away with all the interesting facts about the atom bomb he knew so much about. Her genuine amazement, adoration, and respect for the child completely won his total devotion to her. Because his father was not often home, Aiden quickly sought adult companionship in her.

With a wide grin and a beckoning hand he called to her, "Where are you going? Come on in!"

She could hardly turn the invitation down now, Serena thought begrudgingly to herself, and she walked back towards the apartment door. Aiden stepped aside to let her pass into the foyer and closed the door behind him. Walking up behind Serena, he tugged on her coat sleeve to get her attention.

"Can I take your coat?" He offered politely.

Serena beamed, looking down into his large green eyes. Running a hand through his brunette bangs, she slowly declined his offer. "That's very nice of you, but no thanks. I'm just here to pick up something and then I'll be on my way." He looked absolutely disappointed at her answer.

"You can't stay?" He whispered devastatingly, and Serena could feel the guilt clutching at her heart intensify.

She looked for a way to ease the tension and make light of his question. "Oh man, your father's got you trained to be a real charmer, hasn't he? A real lady's man. If my heart wasn't already taken, I'm sure you would have it."

"And who might he be?"

At the sound of Darien's husky, cool and commanding voice, Serena jerked to her left. Beside the delicate hand-carved wooden banister atop the staircase, there he stood. Always looking subtly sexy and real masculine. She didn't know how he did it, but he managed to make a pair of Adidas athletic sweatpants and sweatshirt look like something out of GQ.

"Darien," Serena muttered dumbly. She couldn't take her eyes off him; it was as though he had cast a spell on her, and all brain function had stopped for her.

"Hey Dad, I opened the door for her just like you said," Aiden proudly chirped.

Darien's attention turned towards his son. He smiled affectionately as he walked down the stairs. "Good job," he praised, and as he reached the bottom step he opened in arms in a gesture for Aiden to come over to him so he could receive a hug.

Serena watched as father and son embraced, feeling a swelling of overwhelming joy in her chest at the picture they made. It was easy to see that Aiden idolized his father; he did everything his dad told him to do. Darien was no exception. At S&F Records, he may be the ice king, but with Aiden, he became the watchful and worried parent. And damn her, she found that quality in him a turn on.

"How did you know I came?" Serena asked shakily.

"I called the downstairs lobby and told them to call me when you came in," Darien answered briefly. Aiden stood beside his dad, nodding in agreement.

Laughing at the pair they made, Serena walked up to Aiden and crouched down in front of him and inquired teasingly, "Is that so? Well why didn't you open the door sooner?"

Dumbfounded, Aiden looked up at Darien as though asking for reply. Darien, very much like a hero, swooped in to aid his son. "Well why didn't you ring the doorbell?"

She blushed at his sardonic look and had to break her gaze from Darien's blue eyes. "Touché," she allowed for the moment.

Darien stared at her for a long instant in silence. His expression unreadable. Slowly he placed a hand on his son's shoulders and crouched down to look Aiden in the eyes. "Do you have homework?"

Aiden rolled his eyes, and replied flippantly, "Its Friday, Dad."

"You didn't answer my question," Darien remained firm.

"Yes, I have homework," Aiden answered grudgingly, knowing just what his father was going to tell him to do.

"How about you go upstairs and go—"

"Do my homework—I know, I know," Aiden interrupted sullenly, all ready heading up the stairs.

"When I'm finished talking to Serena we'll watch a movie, okay?"

He didn't get a reply.

"Kids," Serena said with mock-dismay, meant to appease the annoyed look on Darien's face.

"Don't I know it," Darien grumbled, rubbing his weary face with his hands.

Silence fell like a heavy pall smothering the moment of peace.

"We need to talk," Darien said; his tone harsh, imposing. With scorching eyes, Darien watched her.

Fighting back the urge to scream, Serena bit out coldly, "I thought we were done talking, Darien."

He shook his head stiffly, and Serena noted the way his silky black locks fell into his eyes. He had that angry look on his face again. She liked to call it his cut-the-crap expression. Whenever he became impatient with her, he would clench his jaw tight and stare domineeringly at her. It wasn't exactly an angry stare either, but a more agitated and, strangely, pleading look.

"We never even began," Darien denied. "You left my apartment before I could explain anything."

"What is there left to explain?" Serena shouted angrily, feeling her fury rise full force within her. "You're married!"

"So?"

His lack of concern for the matter lit a match to the waiting dynamite inside her. "What do you mean 'so'? My God, I had sex with a married man—no, not just sex, an _affair_! Can you feel a little remorse for me at least, who has to live with the shame! You might not care, but I do! How could I have been so stupid to have let you lead me on for so long and not even realize that a man as great as you, a man as rich as you, a man as gorgeous as you, was not all ready taken! I was silly, right?"

"Look, Serena, I know you're upset with me right now but—"

"No, I'm not upset," Serena managed to say calmly, "I am beyond furious! You lied to me!" She was sputtering, hissing, spitting like a boiling tea kettle with a fire beneath it that just refused to die.

Grabbing the offending finger that she pointed at him, Darien shushed her and pulled her into the living room away from the staircase so that Aiden would not hear.

"I never lied to you," Darien defended. He walked over to the bar on the other side of the room and decided to pour himself something hard to drink.

Pacing now, back and forth across the soft luxurious carpet, Serena was in a fit. "Not saying a word about your marriage constitutes as a lie!"

"Call it whatever you want," Darien grounded out irritably, gulping down his second shot of whiskey, "But you can't say that what we shared was a lie. I just can't stop now, Serena, I've got to have you. I want you."

"I don't want be a homewrecker, damn it!" Serena shouted angrily.

"You can't possibly be a homewrecker if the home's already wrecked, Serena!" Walking up behind her, Darien clasped her shoulders and shook her.In the dim yellow lamplight he could make out her reflection in the glass window. Her face was pained, her eyes tortured, and he felt like a real creep for asking her to stay with him, but he had to have her. She somehow had become very important to him.

Peeling his fingers from her shoulders, Serena stepped away. Hugging her arms around her body, she fought the vulnerability that threatened to break her down—to relent and tell him that she too wanted to be with him, wanted to hold him, and to love him. But that was all a fantasy, a dream that could not come true. Gathering all her strength, she whirled around and looked him straight in the eye and declared, "No, you don't get it. There is a moral code among women, and you just don't sleep around with other women's men even if their marriage is on the rocks. I'm not some tramp, Darien!"

"Well sorry to burst your bubble, baby, but this is Hollywood and I think you can agree with me that the moral standards here are relatively low compared to yours."

"Just leave me alone, okay? I never asked for any of this." She pleaded hopelessly, knowing the victory was so far away from her grasp. He held all the power over her.

Serena recalled the first night she had came to his apartment, how he had overwhelmed her with his sweet romance. Oh sure Darien would deny that he actually had a romantic bone in his body, but it was there, somewhere deep in him. It was in the way he looked at her, and the intense way they seemed to see right into her; it was in the way he held her as they had danced at the restaurant, and the way the mere touch of his hands on hers sent tingles down her spine; and it was in the way he went out of his way to make sure she was enjoying herself, and the way the husky words he whispered to her made her knees go weak. Oh yes, Darien definitely knew how to make a girl feel romanced, even if he didn't know he was doing it.

She found that sexy; the subtle way in which he didn't even have to try to make her attracted to him. And just in the same way, Darien was a gentleman to the very word; his cultured air was bred in him—as though it were a natural gift bestowed on him by Nature herself. He was such a dynamic man, and Serena thought that that was for sure the reason she had succumbed to his sensual seduction. He was everything she had never encountered in a man back in her small town.

No wonder that night when she came here, that night that now seems so long ago, she had fallen into bed with him so willingly. Days later she had asked herself why she had done it; she had no answer. Now she knew.

It was because of him. Not his money, not his good lucks, not his power in the music industry, but it was his great charismatic personality that just drew her in like a hopeless moth to a burning flame. She immediately got a crush on him. Just like that. How like a silly teenager, to just jump before looking at the abyss below the cliff.

And now here she was. Caught up in a torrid love affair that was tearing her to pieces.

"Liar," he snarled, wrapping his arms around her fiercely, and dragging her to his warm chest. "You asked for all of this." He shushed her when she began to protest. "You asked for it when you smiled at me when I first met you in the hospital, and when you held my hand at the restaurant, and finally when you kissed me in the recording studio. God damn it, you drove me crazy with those pretty eyes, and soft caresses, and sweet mouth of yours. That sultry swagger of yours definitely also invited more than just a brief flirtation, honey. And that kiss, oh baby, don't pretend you didn't want any of this."

"I didn't know you were married!" Serena tried to push herself away, but couldn't get out of his iron grip.

"What difference does it make? Everything's still the same. I want you, and I know as sure as hell that you want me!"

"It makes all the difference," she began to sob against his chest, giving up all effort to fight. "You're a taken man—you've got a family!"

"Tell that to my wife, sweetheart, she doesn't give a damn, and quite frankly, I don't either." His voice was gruff, but as he looked down at her tear streaked face his voice gentled. He pushed her slightly away to wipe her tears away. "All I know right now is that I want you. Please don't cry."

She breathed a haggard sigh. "And what about your son?"

Exhaling in frustration, Darien crushed her back against him. To him, in his arms was where she was meant to be, where she belonged. For the past few weeks he was going crazy by the distance wedged between them. He hated being so close to her every day, yet not being able to simply be with her, talk to her, laugh with her. He didn't know how it happened but Serena somehow managed to become very important to him. How did he let that happen?

Vanessa never made him feel this way. In all the years that they had been married she had never inspired such agonizing longing from him—and to think he had cheated himself of this piece of heaven Serena was giving him, to think that he settled for less than love. For a moment he let himself wonder if this could possibly be love that he felt for her. In the end he discarded the thought, knowing from experience that love never really lived up to its name.

"Don't bring my son into this." He murmured agitatedly into her hair as he laid his head atop hers.

His grip was not as strong as before and Serena broke from his embrace. "No, Darien," She shook her head solemnly; "You brought him into this. And, honestly, I don't think I want any part of this—shh—I'm not talking about the attraction between us. I can't lie to you about that. You've got me wrapped around your finger 'cause I want you so bad, but there is no way I could have any other relationship with you outside S&F Records as long as you're still married. I don't care about your sleazy wife, but it's not fair to your son."

"Don't be impossible," he pleaded irritably, taking her hand in his. "He loves you."

"I know," she acknowledged heart wrenchingly, pulling her hand from his. She hugged herself, wrapping her hands tightly around her arms as though seeking comfort from an inner strength. "And that makes it all the more painful. I can't let him think of me as the woman who split up his parents'."

Darien opened his mouth to protest, but once again was cut off by Serena. "Probably unlike most of the girls you've been with Darien, I have enough self-respect to know that I deserve more than to be second in your life next to your loveless marriage."

Something in Darien snapped. His patience was wearing thin by her constant opposition. It was apparent to him that they belonged together, how come she just couldn't accept it?

"What do you want from me?" Darien roared furiously, throwing his hands up in the air. His eyes went sharp as he scrutinized her pleading face. He was sick and tired of her naïve ideas and ethics, sick of her innocent small-town-girl personality, sick of her damned "good girl" visage.

He cursed under his breath. Those are the very same qualities that he loved and respected about her.

"All that I want is for you to do the right thing," she answered calmly.

"And what, may I ask, do you think the right thing is? Should I file for divorce? Would that make you happy? Would that make it _fair_ for my son? Would that make you want to go to bed with me again?"

She gasped at his vulgarity.

"What's a divorce going to do when our marriage is practically terminated anyways?"

"Your son deserves a healthy environment to live in. But about your marriage: finalize it and sign the papers, because I'm not going for another woman's—"

"I'm not her "man", what part of that don't you get?"

"Well, I'm sorry," she remarked dryly, "The law says differently."

"Well screw the law!"

"I'm sorry, I've never screwed two things at once, and damn it, you know you were my first and only."

At her lewd comment, Darien's eyes twinkled as he studied her infuriated face. "You little—" he had grabbed her and crushed his lips to hers before he could finish his thought.

Serena struggled against him, knowing that if she didn't break the kiss soon, she would probably give in and fall straight to bed with him. That was the power he had over her.

With one hand holding her wriggling wrists against his chest, and the other clenched in Serena's silky golden hair, Darien was doing his dog-garn best to make her return the kiss, to admit that there was an undeniable fire between them that just could not be put out as easily as she claimed.

His mouth gentled its assault on her lips. Slowly his kisses strayed away from her mouth on a sweet descent along her jaw to her smooth, creamy neck.

"You smell good," his voice was hoarse with emotion as he nuzzled her neck, knowing how she enjoyed this.

Don't let him do this to you, she told herself as she felt her defenses crumbling. "It's called perfume," she bit out through clenched teeth.

She could feel his hot breath against her skin and it made her shudder involuntarily. His low, rumbling chuckle tickled her neck. But then he started again. Serena nearly groaned as she felt his velvety tongue slither up against the base of her throat, only to stop and have his mouth suckle ever so gently and lovingly in its place. She was losing the battle; she just knew it. He knew everything about her; well, at least everything about her body. He knew just where to touch, just where to kiss, just where to press. She was powerless.

Darien noticed she had stopped fighting, her fists had gone motionless, and he took that as a sign of encouragement. He loved the way she felt against him, all warm and feminine. Though she may be thinking that he was only toying with her, she really had no idea how much of an affect she was having on him. Just the closeness of her was driving him up the wall and it was unbelievable to him that she did not know that. It wasn't she who was powerless. No. It was he.

As he gently brought his lips back to hers, he felt her relax for him, and he responded enthusiastically. He claimed her mouth in a firm but gentle kiss, unleashing his pent up desire. And when she began to respond, he felt his heart soar. Tenderly his tongue licked the seams of her lips, and when she parted her mouth he took her bottom lips between his and gently sucked. She moaned loudly, breath labored.

"Dad!"

They jumped at the sound of Aiden's voice, shattering the sexual tension that had just begun to build.

Darien groaned, letting go of Serena. He looked down into her eyes as he felt her hands glide off his chest. Mirth sparkled in her sapphire eyes, and Darien was irritated that she could find this funny.

"Don't you dare laugh," he commanded, grabbing her forehead and touching his to hers in a sweet gesture.

That did it. She laughed like a crazy fiend.

Frowning darkly at her, Darien stepped away from her shaking form and walked towards the light of the foyer. "What is it, Aiden?" He called to his son, who was poking his head over the top of the banister on the second floor.

"Oh nothing," Aiden replied with a big smile on his face, "It's just that it got really quiet, and I was just wondering…"

From behind him Darien could hear Serena break into new bouts of laughter and he couldn't help but crack a smile too. "Don't worry about us down here," Darien reprimanded, "Just finish your homework."

"But I'm done," Aiden protested.

"Really?" Darien asked disbelievingly. He watched as his son nodded his head slowly. "Do you want me to come up there and check?" He threatened, placing his hands stubbornly on his waist.

"Hey Darien," Serena said from behind him. "I think I'm going to go now."

"No."

"I've got to get some sleep or I won't be able to wake up tomorrow to go to the studio," she explained, taking her coat off the rack and draping it over her arm.

"Dad," Aiden called to Darien.

"Hold on a minute, Aiden, I'm talking to Serena," Darien scolded.

"No, really, Darien," Serena smiled softly, "I've got to go. You take care of your son. Just tell me what I left here so I can take it and go."

The look of confusion on Darien's face confirmed Serena's suspicions. He had made up that lie just to get her here. She decided to play along. "Remember," she said smugly, "You said I left something at your place. That's the only reason why I came."

Serena was disappointed when he replied nonchalantly, "Oh yeah," and he pointed to somewhere behind her, "It's on the piano behind you."

She turned about to see what it was and saw a brown lunch bag folded neatly on top of the pearly white grand piano, the center piece of the living room. As Serena walked towards it she could see her name written on it with an almost illegible scrawl, resembling that of an elementary student. She laughed and turned around to thank Aiden.

"Serena we're not done talking," Darien said to her as he walked her to the door.

"Oh yes we are," Serena opposed obstinately. "We're done." She opened the door and just before leaving she turned around to wave goodbye to Aiden.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," Darien called after her as she walked down the hall towards the elevator.

* * *

It was ten o'clock by the time Serena got home to her apartment. With the brown paper bag still unopened she threw it onto her bed and began to get ready to sleep. She took a shower, put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth, washed her face and brushed her hair—by the time she was settled and comfortable under her bed sheets she had nearly forgotten about the brown lunch bag.

Lying back against her pillow, she reached over to her side and pulled the bag into view of the yellow glow of the lamp by her nightstand. She wondered what could possibly be inside and resigned herself to opening it to find out. Carefully she removed the tape pinning down the opening, not wanting to ruin the cute little drawings that Aiden had done all over the bag. When she got the tape off, she folded over the flap and looked inside. Horror struck her as she saw the content of the bag. A shrill scream erupted from her throat as she dropped the bag onto her bed.

Hidden inside the bag was her pink Hello-Kitty underwear.

* * *

**End Note:** So what did you think? I know I'm venturing into some controversial issues here, but I don't mean anything by it. I'm definitely not condoning adultery, but for the sake of this story it suits the purpose. Please review and share with me your thoughts. All criticisms are welcomed.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Hi everyone. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you all will like it too. This is my first attempt at a love scene, so if it totally fails and crashes and burn...please tell me!

* * *

"How dare you."

Her scathing whisper brought a soft smile to his lips; the only indication he heard her.

They were in the elevator. The recording session once again had been a total bust; she couldn't seem to get into the right mind set to sing the song, and so her vocals were all off. Andrew became so frustrated he ended the session a half hour early; issuing her to stay home for the rest of the weekend to prepare for the work week.

Humiliated to the point of aggravated tears, Serena could only bow her head in shame and accept his assessment of the situation. From Andrew's point of view, she understood that S&F Records was going out on a limb for her by giving her Darien's song. He had every right to be nervous and doubtful of her ability to make the single a hit. And she wasn't making it any easier for him by messing up her vocals.

This had never happened to her before. She usually could carry a tune perfectly _and_ convey the correct emotions through the song. Serena couldn't fathom why, now at this pivotal point in her career, she couldn't portray the right feelings in her voice. It would be a vast understatement if she said that she were scared—more like utterly horrified at her uncertain future—but her sudden streak of bad luck was not helping her, already, stressed psyche.

But she was willing to place all the blame on Darien.

Standing a little ways across the elevator from her, the devastatingly handsome Darien Shields exuded such confidence, such power, such raw sex appeal, that staring at him, dressed in a suave beige business suit, made Serena even more irritated with the dashing dark haired devil. His easygoing and laidback stance, which any straight female would find absolutely sexy, made Serena twitch with an urge to strangle the man. It seemed to her that the very air around him was contaminated with his golden aura of superiority—and she had an inkling that the reason why she found it so very hard to breathe at the moment, was because she wasn't fit to breathe the same air as him.

With his hands in his pockets and his shoulder propped up against the cold metal wall of the tiny box they were enclosed in, Darien pretended he had not heard the sharp accusation in her voice as he replied coolly, "Do you really want to start this here?"

Serena caught the twinkling amusement in his eyes as he flicked a quick sideways glance in her direction. Not missing the appreciative, sweeping dip of his eyes down to her lips before he turned his warm gaze away. She trembled, and as she did so, she mentally cursed herself for her weak resolve. He always broke through her defenses with such ease that she found it frightfully alarming.

His tone was polite, impersonal. She understood the quiet warning in his words, but she had locked all her fury from the previous night in her for far too long. Her words threatened to spill like water through a crumbling dam.

"Please tell me your son did not know what was in the bag," she muttered vehemently; her breathing was short and fast as she seethed with simmering anger.

He smiled again, but this time he turned to give her the full affect of his crooked, rascal's grin. "If that's what you want to hear, I shall oblige," he replied teasingly, "Aiden did not know what the content in the bag was."

A horrified gasp emitted from her mouth. In her eyes, however, were the slow embers of her anger—stormy ice blue fire, blazing. "You did _not_ show him my underwear!" She shrieked, daring him to say different. Her shoulders shook with rage as she squared her body directly towards him.

"So what if I did?" He met her challenge with no hesitation, and he too, turned to face her.

My God, she was a lovely sight to see. He had been staring at her all morning since she walked in through the recording studio doors with her blonde hair unkempt, as though she had just woken up and did not bother to comb it. Dressed in a delightfully pleasing pink sundress, she looked like the sweet, wholesome, country girl that she was—only a lot sexier than Carrie Underwood. And now more than ever, with her eyes an explosive blue, and her face flushed with color, she was courage, brain and beauty, all wrapped up in a nice little package; a ticking time bomb about to combust.

"I—I'll never—"She stumbled over her words, trying to control her rage.

"You'll never make love with me again?"

She was stunned by the force in his voice; it was a combination of bitter sarcasm and…Serena wouldn't bet her money on it, but she detected a note of _hurt_ in his tone. There was a quiver of pain that she could discern in his dry remark.

"Because that's the most agonizing possibility I can think of; you withholding your love from me."

The intensity of his gaze seemed to penetrate through her very core, and she became anxious under his searching eyes.

"Just like what you're doing to me right now—"

"Don't—" She moaned; and she turned away from him, wrapping her hands around her bare arms as if to protect her from his hot stare. "Please stop."

"I can't, Serena," he growled, slamming his open palm against the hard metal wall. "If I could make myself, for one minute, for one second, forget the feel of you in my arms, the smell of you in my bed, the taste of the promise of heaven on your lips—I would. I would wish it all away if I had the power, because," a slight pained smile curved his mouth, "forgetting you would take me away from the misery I am in now."

"I have had a bit of paradise and now I must give it all back—you don't know how difficult that is! It's like leading a starving man to a feast and telling him he can't have any, Serena!"

All her anger seemed to drain from her as he finished his tirade. She could see the ravaged torture on his face; see the starved man that he was. Slowly she closed her eyes; the sight of his need for her, and her only, was pulling away the ground she was standing on, and she was in danger of letting go all her beliefs, values, and morals.

He's married, she shouted to herself. He's married. He's married. He's married.

It was too late; she didn't have the will to fight him. How could she when he already had half her heart? It'd be like fighting against herself.

As her eyes fluttered open, they clashed with his—an electric current coursed through her.

"Does Aiden know?" She demanded stubbornly; unwilling to let herself be an eager participant in this immoral game they were playing.

Darien scoffed; his eyes flashed. "Of course I didn't show him, Serena," he sounded disappointed. "I would have thought you knew me better."

Immediately she felt ashamed. Yes, she did know him. He was a kind, intelligent man; strong and gentle, at the same time patient and unselfish. All the qualities that made him a fantastic father.

And a magnificent lover.

But he had cheated on his wife with her. And that contradicted everything that she knew to be true about his character. Serena was torn.

"I just thought—"

"You saw the pictures he drew on the bag and assumed that he knew," Darien concluded for her.

She nodded, feeling a little guilty for her foolish accusation.

Serena heard him expel a heavy sigh. "Serena, you know the kid likes to doodle; you've watched him draw on his lunch bags every time you come over."

"Don't make me feel worse, Darien," Serena groaned. "I can see your point now."

"I did ask you if you really wanted to start this here," Darien grumbled.

She laughed at his surly tone.

Watching her through slightly lowered lids, he contemplated kissing her right there in the elevator. Serena was glorious when she was laughing like that—her face bright with whatever she found amusing at the moment (which for some weird reason was always something he did or said).

He unconsciously closed the gap between them; his steps purposeful as he crossed the short distance separating him from her.

Her laughter died when she felt the warm heat of his body in close proximity to hers, and quickly fear gripped her pounding heart. "What are you doing?" She asked nervously.

"I'm deciding whether or not I should have a taste of heaven right here while you can't run away from me," he answered; his starving eyes glued to his feast, her lips.

She shivered.

It wasn't a disturbing feeling. It was kind of…nice. A delicious shiver in anticipation of the pleasure she knew was to come.

"You can't," she protested, though her eyes were already halfway closed. "Darien, the cameras."

The feel of his hot breath upon her skin made her mind hazy. And her pulse quickened as his head lowered towards hers.

"Funny," he whispered, his deep husky voice alluring, "I really can't bring myself to care at this moment."

Their lips met.

The elevator doors opened.

They pulled apart so rapidly, Serena had jumped to the other side of the room before even the doors were fully open.

"My place," she heard him snarl in frustration after her. With shaking knees she walked out, forcing herself not to look back. She knew with a certainty that if she did meet his sensual gaze, and see the hunger there on his face, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from going to his penthouse. She wouldn't be able to stop herself from surrendering to love.

She looked back over her shoulder.

* * *

Every Saturday at exactly eleven o'clock in the morning Vanessa Wellington met her chauffer outside her hotel to do her weekly shopping on Beverly Hill's famous Rodeo Drive. Like every weekend before, she went into D&G and spent a good one hour and one grand on the merchandise. Afterwards, she settled down at her usual outside table in her favorite restaurant; the scenic and crowded streets her audience to show off her flashy million dollar diamond necklace, fresh-off-the-runway outfit, and designer shoes. At a quarter to one she resumed her shopping at all her favorite boutiques; her total coming up just short of twenty thousand dollars by the time she got into her car to go to her weekly appointment at Celebrity Nails & Spa.

"Excuse me, madam," a waiter, with a heavy French accent, inquired, "Are you Ms. Wellington?"

The redhead tilted her expensive designer sunglasses down her long nose to peer at the man with her cold brown eyes. She ran a disgusted check from his face to the apron he wore around his waist and fought back the annoyance she felt at the disturbance.

"Yes, I am."

The waiter recoiled from her sharp tone. "Your husband, Mr. Shields is on the line for you, madam." He produced the phone he had been holding behind his back and held it out to her, anxious for her to take it so he could get out of her presence. As soon as she took it, he ran.

It was twelve o'clock and she was having lunch at Midnight Mirage, her favorite French restaurant. The sky was clear blue that afternoon—if you didn't count the city smog, of course—and she was enjoying the open air at her usual table out on the terrace. It was habitual that she came here every weekend, but a phone call from her husband? Never.

"Hello?"

"Where's Aiden? You were supposed to drop him off before you went shopping."

She did not respond kindly to his severe tone.

"Oh I'm sorry, honey," she cooed acidly, "Your spawn woke up late this morning and I didn't care to wait for him."

"You little—"

"Oh please, Darien," she scoffed into the receiver, "Spare me your praise. Now I wanted to discuss with you the possibility of me moving back in with you. When do you think—"

"That's not going to happen, Vanessa," he said her name like it was a blasphemy.

She sighed. "Well, that's what I thought. I'll give you another month then to change your mind."

"I'm not going to change my mind."

"Don't be so quick decide, Darien," Vanessa drawled, watching her red fingernails gleam like blood in the sunlight.

"I'm going to your hotel to pick him up."

"If that's what you want; though I don't know why you like him so much more than you like me."

"He's your son, God damn it," he swore on the other line.

"Oh yes, and look at all the good things he's brought to me—" she replied sarcastically, right before he hung up on her.

She glared at the tall swaying palm tree across the street at the buzz of the dead line in her ear. When her lunch came she handed the waiter the telephone and instructed him not to disturb her during her meal.

Eight years. She had been married to Darien for eight whole years. Vanessa smiled at the memory of their courtship, remembering how he had fallen for her.

She had been eighteen at the time. He was nineteen. A hotel heiress, she was a pampered princess. Her father got her into all the top-notch events. That was how she met him. He was being nominated for his song at the Academy Awards; and she remembered the feeling that pitted in her stomach as she watched him walk on stage to accept his Oscar—she wanted him. She wanted him more than anything she had ever desired in her life.

At nineteen, Darien had the promise of a very successful career in front of him. His youthful good-looks and urbane charm also placed him high atop the celebrity lists. Even Sarah Michelle Gellar, at the time, broke up with her boyfriend in hopes of snatching the dark haired Adonis. Every girl wanted him, and Vanessa had the joy of flaunting her male accessory for every camera that turned in their direction for the next few months.

It was during the dinner after the award ceremony that she was able to meet him. There was no doubt in her mind that he was attracted to her; the appreciative once-over he gave her lavender-clad form vanquished all her doubts. They attended all the same parties that night, and in the early hours of the morning she took him back to her hotel room.

It wasn't her first time. Having sex. She had lost her virginity long before Darien to her first boyfriend in junior high. She was fourteen. Vanessa held no virginal ideals as Darien kept her up for the remainder of the night, making hot, passionate love to her. And in the breaking dawn of the new day, a plan began to formulate in her head.

She was going to keep him. Forever.

Darien wouldn't hear her utter a word of marriage.

She got pregnant instead.

* * *

"I'm sorry, I have to drag you around like this." The irritation in Darien's voice was not lost to Serena.

From the passenger seat, she turned her head to stare at his perfect profile. The hard set in his jaw instigated the twitching nerve in the side of his cheek. His dark brows were furrowed in a menacing frown, and his eyes were distant—disturbed.

She wanted to calm him; ease him from his dark mood.

Serena didn't know why she did it, but she hesitantly raised her hand and placed it over his, which was tightly clutching the stick shift. He flinched at her touch, but he didn't tell her to take her hand away. Instead, he slowly turned his head, and Serena almost gasped at the smoldering ember of desire in his eyes as they dropped to her hand.

It took Darien only seconds to realize what she had just done.

She was soothing him.

The burst of desire that consumed him at her simple touch left him breathless. He turned his head as he looked down at her petite slender fingers, gently stroking his; and he had a sudden urge to kiss her. It was odd, these random moments of craving he had for her. And she surely did not know what she was doing to his senses! The bemused expression on her face said it all.

His hand relaxed under her tender ministration. He liked that she wanted to touch him; wanted to soothe his 'hurt' feelings (as ridiculous as that realization was to him). It told him that she didn't just like the intimacy of their relationship, but also that, she liked him for the man that he was.

As his eyes came back up to her face, he saw the flushed color that came to her cheeks. He smiled knowingly.

"Dad."

Aiden called from the back of the car; his voice impatient.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Darien squelched all thoughts of the erotic fantasy playing in his head to give his full attention to his son. "Yes?"

"The lady is waiting for you to roll down your window," Aiden explained, pointing a finger at the drive-thru worker in the McDonald uniform.

Darien cursed under his breath as he whirled around and pressed the button on the side of his door. The window opened.

Ignoring the snickers from Serena and Aiden for his lack of attention, Darien gave the female clerk one of his famous grins. "Hi, sorry about that," he apologized smoothly (the young teen gawked; entranced by his good looks).

Dumbly she handed him the happy meal she held in her hands. "N-n-no pr-prob-blem," she stuttered, unable to rip her eyes from Darien's smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" The double meaning was not lost to Darien.

Nor was it to Serena, who was now glaring discouragingly at the girl in the window.

"No, that'd be all."

Darien looked at Serena. He thought her sharp tone was unnecessary, but when he saw the daggers shooting from her eyes at the poor teenager, he had to quickly stifle his chuckle.

"Was it me or were you just a little bit jeal—" He began to say as they drove away from the fast food restaurant.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," she interrupted; shrugging her innocence. Handing the happy meal to Aiden, she said to the eight year old, "Chicken nuggets are my favorite too."

The fair child beamed. "Really?" His eyes wide with supreme pleasure. "My mom hates it! She says that I should stop eating fast food because I'll get fat and then die of a heart disease."

Serena was speechless. His _mother _said that to him? His mother would squelch his joy and trample on his taste of food? Who the hell, exactly, was Darien married to, Serena thought murderously?

"Well don't let her suck out all the fun in life," Serena told Aiden firmly.

"Too late."

Darien had said that. Serena switched her attention to his brooding expression, watching his capable hands grip the steering wheel as he easily maneuvered his top-of-the-line BMW.

"Did you say something?" She asked.

He shook his head 'no'.

"My mom's right though," Aiden murmured disheartened, taking out a fry from the bag and popping it into his mouth. "Statistics do show that people who eat fast food do have a higher tendency of contracting a heart disease…"

Serena was chastened. She had forgotten how intelligent Aiden was. And as he continued his review of the increasing rate of obesity in America, she began to laugh; not at him, but at herself.

"Did I say something funny?" Aiden questioned.

Unable to answer his query, as painful stabs of hilarity attacked her stomach, Darien answered for Serena instead. "I think she's taken aback by your knowledge, kido," he grinned, looking up at the rearview mirror, "Way to go."

At his father's praise, Aiden smiled brightly; immensely pleased with himself. "Cool."

"Now stop talking and eat your food," commanded Darien.

He had been in a panic when he returned home and found that Aiden was not in his bedroom, as he usually was after Vanessa dropped him off in the morning. To make things worse, Serena was there to witness his hysteria as he had to track down his wife at every boutique he knew she shopped at in Beverly Hills (he didn't keep up with her cell phone numbers). By the time he got in contact with his wife, he was worked up in a furry, embarrassed for Serena to see him like this, and was in no mood for Vanessa's vindictive ways.

"I'll go with you," Serena had offered as he explained to her that he had to go pick up Aiden. He remember the tenderness that came over him as he watched her slip on her shoes and waited for him patiently at the door; her expression filled with understanding.

He had urged her to go to his apartment, dragged her with him to the Wellington Hotel across town, and made her wait in the long drive-thru line at McDonalds because of the lunchtime rush. Never before had he ever so poorly treated a female companion that—as he noted how calm she was about all of this—he felt ashamed for insisting she stay with him.

"You must think I'm the worst father in the world," Darien said to her when they were finally alone in his apartment. Aiden had gone upstairs to put away his bag of clothes for the weekend.

Serena's eyes glowed as she studied the frustration etched in the hard lines of his face. "I think you're the best father in the world," she corrected him with great conviction.

She sounded so convincing, Darien had to look at her long and hard before he shook his head in denial. "You're just saying that."

They were sitting at the kitchen table, opposite of one another. Through the glass wall, bright sunlight shined cheerfully down upon them, as the busy LA skyline continued oblivious of them down below.

Darien's ebony hair glistened like black silk, and she couldn't stop herself from reaching across the table and brushing his stray hairs away from his brilliant eyes. "No, I'm not," she whispered unashamedly. "It was an honest mistake, Darien. You didn't know that your wife would flake out on you and leave Aiden starved and alone in her hotel room."

He caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips. Kissing back and forth against the soft skin of her hand, he raised his doubtful gaze to hers.

"Somehow," he said grimly, "I don't find your words very reassuring." Lacing his fingertips with hers, he squeezed her hand firmly in his and smiled weakly. "But don't let me go, okay?"

Touched by his aching plea, Serena returned the gentle squeeze on his hand. She knew this wasn't right. She knew she shouldn't be messing around with a married man—but she couldn't stop. She wouldn't.

This dynamic, intelligent, worldly man wanted her. _Her_. Who was she to deny him when she was half in love with him already?

Without a shred of guilt, she answered, "I don't think I _can_ let you go."

The shaky, overwhelming way in which she said it made his eyes lower with a yearning to take her in his arms and drive himself into her until they were both gasping with pleasure and blissfully sated.

"Don't look at me like that," Serena protested, but her voice was weak.

"Like what?"

Like you want to rip off my clothes and have sex with me, Serena thought to herself, but did not dare say it aloud. She knew what he would say, and how she would respond. He would tell her that that was _exactly_ what he wanted to do to her, and then she would, no doubt, hopelessly give in because she could never seem to deny him.

"I don't know," she replied, with a careless shrug, "You're looking at me as though….as though you want to eat me."

"I do," he affirmed.

Okay, bad choice of words, Serena berated herself. She looked away from his sensual gaze; his eyes were wildly arousing.

"Why do you fight it?"

His question startled her. "Fight what?"

"This undeniable pull that brings us together."

Serena blushed.

He smiled as he watched her fidget with her fingers. "You can't deny there is something beyond our control that has brought you to me."

Darien thought she looked beautiful like that. All shy and self-conscious. There was no guile in her features no pretense in her embarrassed blush. And he couldn't help but think she looked like a fallen angel, sitting there across from him, with the sunshine making her hair glow like liquid gold. His fallen angel.

"I always thought of it as, it brought _you_ to me." Her softly spoken admission shattered his resolve.

Before Serena realized what was happening, Darien was standing beside her chair, lifting her up against him. His mouth settled firmly over hers in one of the most wildly erotic and possessive kisses she had ever felt in her life. And she melted against him; molding her body to his hard one, sliding her arms over his chest, to grasp desperately to his shoulders, as though all her life depended on his nearness.

He groaned as he felt her answer his kiss by sliding her hand up into the hairs at the nape of his neck to pull him closer to her. Only she could do this to him; drive his senses wild. He felt her bottom lip quiver against his, and fire burned in him like an inferno to take her right there in the kitchen. With his thumb he gently nudged her mouth open for the swift and thorough invasion of his tongue. Her soft sighs of pleasure, urging him to continue his exploration of her mouth.

She tasted good. Real good. He liked the way she was quickly responding to his tongue—sliding her own against his, thrusting and teasing. And then she pulled away.

He growled at the lost of her mouth on his, but fought back another groan when he realized what she was doing. She kissed the side of his mouth, his jaw, his ear, and then his neck. The sweet torture of her light butterfly kisses made him ache with his desire to make love to her. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he tightly hauled her up against him. His hands were like steel vices holding her hips to his hard thighs.

Darien felt her tongue trace a long path up to his ears, where she playfully nipped him with her teeth, and he shivered.

"How do you feel about hickies?" He felt her breathe seductively into his ear.

"It depends…" He was trying to slow his breathing, but her lips against his neck, moving so persuasively, so enticingly was distracting him.

"It depends on what?" She asked in between her kisses along his jaw line.

"On whether or not you want to give me one." His low growl of pleasure at the tender sucking of her lips against the base of his neck surprised even him.

"I want to give you one," he heard her breathless reply.

"I'm all yours honey," he sighed.

But instead of continuing her sucking on his neck, she returned her lips to his for one more long earth shattering kiss.

"No, don't," he protested as she pushed herself away from him. His lungs were burning for air, but his need to satisfy his more baser instincts surpassed even that. He needed Serena; needed her more than air.

She giggled softly as he pulled her back into his arms, and when she refused to lift her head up to receive another one of his drugging kisses, he resigned himself to nuzzling her neck as she had just done to him moments before.

"Darien, Aiden's going to walk in on us at any moment."

It wasn't a very strong argument, at least it wasn't in Darien's mind, but he heard the reason in her voice. He had to control himself.

Giving her one last peck on the cheek, he let her go.

Just as Serena said, Aiden came running around the corner asking excitedly, "Can we go see that new Will Smith movie, Dad? You promised."

"Sure," Darien nodded, placing his hands upon his hips (trying to resume a casual stance).

Aiden jumped enthusiastically, and then he turned his gaze towards Serena, who was unsuccessfully trying to rearrange her hair that Darien had so kindly messed up in his passion. "Can Serena go too, Dad?"

Darien cast an amused look in Serena's direction, who glared at him in response. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Serena was not proof against the child's green eyes. "Please?" Aiden beseeched, lacing his fingers together to beg her.

"Do you really want me to go?" She said to prolong his anticipation—annoyed that she couldn't seem to deny father or son.

"Yes!"

"All right, then. I suppose that's settled," Serena teased, her laughing eyes darting up to meet Darien's. "What do you say, Darien? Do you mind if I tag along?"

And then the strangest look came into his eyes, and Serena was paralyzed by the sheer force of it—it was so deep, so passionate, so intense…her heart started to pound harder.

"You're always welcomed to tag along, Serena," his voice was thick with emotion.

* * *

Darien smiled contentedly as he carried Aiden's limp body to his bedroom; where he carefully undressed him and tucked him into bed. After going to the movies, the three of them had decided to walk around downtown, where they spent a good two hours in an arcade, and then agreed to have dinner at Aiden's favorite burger place.

The kid was exhausted, and Darien could understand. Serena had entertained them throughout the whole day with her funny jokes and interesting stories; by nightfall, Darien was worn out from all the laughing they had done.

As he walked down the stairs, he wondered what he could possibly say to make Serena stay with him that night. He thought of several potential possibilities, but decided against them. He wanted her so much. He wanted her to the point where he was in pain, but he wanted her willing. He wanted her to _want_ to stay with him.

She was standing by the door; her purse clutched in her hands.

"Serena?"

"Today was wonderful, Darien," she muttered; her gaze on the tiled floor. "Thanks, I had a lot of fun."

He felt something swell and constrict in his chest. "You're leaving." It wasn't a question, but his assessment of her solemn expression. Coming to stand in front of her, he shoved his hands into his pant pockets to stop himself from reaching for her, and sighed in defeat.

She looked up then. Her face a cloud of confusion and frustration. With a shaky breath she replied, "Let's not forget that you're married here. We conveniently forgot that fact for today, but that doesn't change anything."

"Stay with me—"

"Don't—" she bit out tersely, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.

"I need you tonight."

Never had he resorted to begging, but Darien didn't find it such a degrading thought to entertain.

"Please," she whispered brokenly, shaking her head. "Don't make me do this. I could never forgive myself for sleeping with you knowing that you're married."

Her words stabbed him, cutting him to pieces, until he felt drained from the loss of blood. "Do you regret it?" He asked bitterly.

"Sleeping with you?" His question seemed to amaze her. "Never."

When she saw his skeptical expression, she felt a strange determination to prove to him that she felt no remorse for their past dalliance. It was not only that, though. Serena felt _compelled_ to ease his cynical scowl, to make amends to his hurting heart. Why? It had taken her all day to answer that question, and mentally accept it.

It was simple: She was in love with him.

Not just _half_ in love, not just in _danger_ of giving him her heart—no—she was absolutely, irrevocably in love with Darien Shields, and her heart was his long before she even knew she had given it away.

"No one has ever made me feel the way you make feel. I know it was my first time, but…I don't think anyone will ever come close to touching me the way you have…er…I'm making a mess of my words aren't I?"

She was struggling, struggling to keep her on top the dark water of doubt that was swirling above her neck, pulling her down into the abyss. "I'm not as eloquent as you…"

He found her failing attempt to ease him rather endearing and he immediately softened his expression. The silly girl, he thought to himself. She need not be eloquent to make him understand her. In fact, she need not say anything at all. He was confident that she enjoyed every minute she spent in his arms, shaking with pleasure, and moaning and panting with ecstasy as he drove her to heaven.

What he was really worried about was whether he was pushing himself onto her too strongly. He could easily see the torn look in her eyes each time he kissed her. She was in a tug of war between her moralistic beliefs, what she grew up to know as right or wrong, and her newly awakened desire for him, and what only her body could tell her was right. He was hurting her, and he felt like an imbecile for putting her in this situation.

That was why he was in a dark mood. He wasn't mad at her; he was mad at himself.

"Go." It killed him to say it, but he knew that if he cared an ounce for her, then he would let her go. She wanted to go.

"Darien—"

"Please, Serena," his steady voice betraying no sign of emotion, "Go home before you make this any harder for me than it already is."

She watched, in stunned disbelief, as he strode past her and opened the door. She felt as though her heart was shattering into a million pieces on the floor, and he was stomping over it. His polite and impersonal attitude scared her, for she did not know that Darien. She did not know this cool and brief man who was regarding her with eyes of indifference.

And then she felt the water envelope her, pulling her under, dragging her down into the darkness. It was finally over.

The door slammed shut behind her as she made her way out.

* * *

Coffee. She never really liked coffee. The only time she drank the caffeinated drink was when she had to pull all-nighters to study for her finals during high school. Even then, all she had was the instant coffee, Folgers brand. It didn't have the best taste, but boy did it smell good. Serena couldn't understand how people became addictive coffee drinkers—where they needed to have it in the morning, afternoon, and evening. She could not fathom the phenomena, that is, until she moved to LA.

Starbucks. They didn't have one back in her small town. A pity, that.

The sky was cold and bleak outside as Serena awoke to a grey stream of light filtering into her twentieth floor apartment through the tall glass windows. With a dull ache in her chest, she heaved herself up out of bed and headed for the bathroom to take a shower. She wanted to wash away the pain of yesterday, scrub the filth of her sins off her skin. Serena felt dirty all over, but the worst part of it was, the grime of guilt for causing Darien pain was branded on her skin like a freshly painted tattoo.

She was going to take a long hot shower and try to wipe away the image of Darien's cold-hearted aloofness from the night before.

It was the only way she could deal with it. Forget. The hurt she saw and heard in his voice was all too real and sharp in her mind.

Remorse should be the last thing on her conscience for her decision last night. She had done the right thing. She had not given in to temptation. She had not let him persuade her. She had not gone to bed with him. She had not told a married man that she loved him.

The right thing. She had done the _right_ thing.

But then why was she aching so?

Standing under the hard, relentless beating of water against her skin, Serena could not deny the fact that with every tick of her heart, there was a tremendous painful lurch that accompanied it. So painful that, even in a hot shower, she broke into a cold sweat. Over her wet skin, her hand glided to her heavy heart. She could feel her pulse underneath her palm. It was erratic, spastic, and just a little broken. Okay, maybe not a little. A lot. Her heart was _a lot_ broken as it pounded faintly in her chest.

All her life, Serena had been taught that if she was good and her actions were right and just, only great things would come unto her. After walking out on Darien last night, she had expected some sort of relief—some sort of inner peace for the good of her decision. She had expected to feel content with herself; happy that she had such a solid unbreakable will; release from all the anxiety that chained her.

It didn't come.

No. Instead only heart-wrenching pain was her reward. She had to pause for a minute to think: was her heart trying to tell her something her head could not? Did her heart know that her choice last night was wrong, and maybe that was the reason why she was in such agony? Was it wrong for her to have left Darien, like she did, in his time of need?

He was married.

For some reason that knowledge didn't seem so viable to her that morning. She honestly could not bring herself to care. She was in love with the man—and that was all that mattered. Right or wrong, moral or immoral; it didn't seem so important anymore.

And that scared her.

She was no longer in control. She could not bend her thoughts to following the 'rules' that governed society, force her body to fight the dangerous attraction with her amoral fascination for a married man. Never before had she felt so…so _powerless_. This helpless state of being frightened her. _She _frightened her.

It was only eight o'clock when she checked the watch on her nightstand after she got out of the bathroom. She dressed at a rapid pace so cold could not nip at her exposed, wet limbs. By the time she was fully clothed with her shoes tied in place and handbag over the shoulder, she realized that she had nowhere, in particular, to go. Just then she felt hunger growl in her stomach. She recalled seeing a Starbucks about a block down from her building.

That was how she got there.

Andrew smiled from over his cup of coffee, and set it down on the table. His eyes wore that same smile. He leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands behind his head; utterly at peace with the world.

Twenty-seven was not old at all, Serena decided as she looked at Andrew's handsome face. Besides, Darien was also twenty-seven. It only seemed old in comparison to _her_ age.

Man, she felt like a child when she thought about the near decade gap between eighteen and twenty-seven. Nine years. Darien was nine years older than her. And that nine years showed in his career, his child…and his wife. What did she, Serena, have to show for? At eighteen, she had just graduated high school, was living alone in her own apartment, and had just been signed on to a major label. The contrast in where they both were in life, at the moment, was just too vast.

He had a successful career and was well respected among his peers. She had her high school diploma and was a nobody from a small town. They were not compatible. No, not at all. It would never work out if they decided to take their relationship to the next level.

Their relationship? Did they even have a relationship? Could it even be called a relationship? Serena had never felt more befuddled before in her life.

In the straining light of the morning, Andrew's face was shadowed with sharp angles and solid lines. He had a face of a model, Serena noted. A face that she was sure she could have recognized on the pages of _GQ_ or something. A face with such fine bone structure that he looked positively _fascinating_, like a mythical hero from a fantasy book. A face, she thought rather broodingly, that had none of the appeal of Darien's.

As fair and as beautiful as the golden sun, Andrew was; Darien was the exact opposite, dark and forbidding like a full moon on a black canvas. There was just something, something unexplainable, about the coldness in Darien's face that was strangely inviting and attractive. Mysterious. There was more to him than met the eyes. He was a pretty puzzle to look at, but could not be solved.

Andrew on the other hand was a mirror. With him, it was what you see is what you get. There was no holding back the truth, no keeping secrets that shouldn't be kept. The person you saw on the outside was exactly what was on the inside. A perfect mirror reflection.

Wearing a dark beige coat, and a stylish pair of jeans, Andrew was a definite _GQ_ model, right now, as Serena sat across from him in a far corner at Starbucks. If she had not known him for a good several months now, she would be hyperventilating at the gorgeous sight of him.

"Sorry about that, I can't believe I ran into you," Andrew apologized profusely, his eyes darting to the large wet stain on her white fitted-T. The blob of brown that was splashed across her chest looked like a modern painting gone wrong. "What a coincidence that it had to be you."

Serena had just walked five minutes down the block to Starbucks when she dropped her five dollar bill in front of the coffee shop. As she bent down to pick it up, Andrew, at that same instant, came out of the building. He did not see her. Surely, if he had seen her, he wouldn't have walked right into her, jerked back in shock, and spilt his coffee down her shirt.

The amazement on their faces as they both registered who the other was had been absolute comedy. After a stiff moment of silence, both Andrew and Serena broke into gails of laughter, startling passer-byers on the street, and hugged. Offering to buy her a cup of coffee (and replenish his own), Andrew instructed Serena to take a seat while he saw to their orders.

"Don't worry about it," said Serena, casually crossing her arms on the table. "It was probably what I deserved for screwing up so badly yesterday."

His eyes flashed as he took another sip of from his cup. "You're right," he nodded, setting his beverage down.

She gaped in astonished disdain. "I was joking!"

"Well I'm not," he told her with a playful smile. "You were really making me frustrated."

Serena feigned hurt, pulling her bottom lip over her top in a teasing pout.

"And on that note," Andrew remarked wryly, "I thought I gave you specific orders not to leave your home this weekend." He raised his brows inquisitively, in a way as to suggest she better explain.

"I know, I know," she grumbled, "But I woke up this morning and had an uncontrollable thirst for coffee."

"Why didn't you just make it?"

"Because I don't know how to make a grande white mocha," she replied; she took a sip from her cup and flashed him a jaunty smile.

Andrew chuckled. "You hopeless small-town girl. Whatever will your husband do with you if you can't even make coffee?"

At the mention of "husband", Serena unconsciously conjured an image of Darien in her head. He was a husband. But he wasn't _her_ husband.

Andrew didn't know why, but he detected a sudden change of emotion in her, and wondered if his joking remarks hurt her; but before he could ask her, he saw her downcast eyes lift to his and they were gleaming slyly.

"So do you have a special someone back home, Serena? Where was it again you were from?"

"Crestwood. The town was called Crestwood."

"Oh yeah, that's right. So, is there a person who's waiting for you back in Crestwood, Serena?"

"Plenty," she declared, her eyes shining. "There's my mom, my dad, my brother—"

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "You know what I meant."

Serena laughed, and thought for a moment, thinking how ridiculous it all seemed to her now that she was having this conversation with Andrew. What was she supposed to say? No, 

I'm in love with your friend and business partner, Darien Shields. Yeah, right, like she was going to say that to him.

"Are you asking if I have a boyfriend," she inquired in a soft coy voice, her eyes lowering in a mocking suspicious glare. "Because if you are, you're being very sneaky about it…"

The blond laughed, raking a hand through his hair. "Yes," he nodded after a moment, "I am."

"Why?" Serena teased, knowing that they both were simply just messing around. "Are you interested?"

Andrew nodded. "I'm very much interested."

"Well…" she drawled in a low breath, "In that case, I'm _very_ available."

Laughing again at her tone, Andrew studied her gorgeous face and decided she was lying. "Really?" He asked, serious now, after he stopped laughing.

Serena's visage changed to a solemn expression, and then she nodded. "Yeah, I'm really still single."

"Whoa," he whistled, amazement clearly painted on his face. "I was sure you had a boyfriend. I mean, a girl with your looks, it'd be expected."

She smiled; but it was kind of sad. She didn't look sad. But somehow, he knew that she was.

A boyfriend. She could have had a boyfriend. She could have had a boyfriend who she'd love. A boyfriend who'd love _her_.

Instead she had a lover—or at least she thought that was what Darien was. She could have been in a regular, normal relationship with any man she wanted, but instead she chose to fall in love with a man she couldn't have. Jeez, how much more stupid could she be?

"How about you, Andrew?" She asked, after a moment. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Finishing off the last of his coffee, Andrew pushed the cup aside and leaned forward, closer to Serena. "Do I have a girlfriend?" Andrew repeated, before he answered; he seemed to contemplate the question long and hard. "No, I don't."

"Why not?" It seemed like an innocent question enough, Serena thought, but when she saw the somber look that came across his face, she changed her mind. "Sorry, I don't mean to be prodding."

"Her name is Rita."

His softly stated reply confused her. "What?"

Andrew smiled; his eyes warm. "Can you keep a confidence?"

He was speaking in a whisper, and Serena had to lean in closer towards him to hear. They were almost nose to nose over the table.

"It's really kind of silly," Andrew admitted with a nervous chuckle; but Serena could see that there was something sparkling in his eyes. It was obvious to her that _he_ didn't think it was silly. "I have a childhood friend, and her name is Rita. I kind of have a crush on her; I guess you can say that I don't have the balls to tell her."

Serena's eyes widened at the intimate confession Andrew was relaying to her. "Where is she now? Why don't you just explain to her—"

"There you go again, small-town girl," Andrew reached a hand and muffled her hair. "It's not as easy as that. She and I grew up practically like siblings. We were next door neighbors; and we were in diapers together, started kindergarten together, graduated high school together, hung out with the same friends together—and then she left for Africa."

"What?" Serena gasped, laying her chin atop her folded hands on the table as she continued to stare fixedly at Andrew. "Why—"

"It's been her dream to go study there."

Realization dawned on Serena. How sad, she thought. Andrew had been caught between letting the love of his life go and tearing apart her dream. Immediately her sympathy went out to him, for she knew his pain too. Their pain was one of the same. Love.

"Oh…" was all she managed to say.

Andrew smiled at her wide-eyed expression. "I guess you can say that the reason why I'm not dating anyone at the moment is because—"

"You're still holding out a torch for her," she finished for him.

"Stupid, right?" He snorted derisively, and Serena watched as his eyes fell away to the ground.

"No."

He looked up then. "Thanks."

"Are you going to marry her?" Serena didn't think that she was being too intrusive. It only seemed like a natural conclusion to her.

"Oh, God, no!" He shouted, and then threw back his head and laughed.

She was surprised at his exclamation. "Excuse me?"

"Marriage, Serena? Marriage?" He laughed incredulously. "I haven't even thought about marriage."

"But why not, you love her right?"

Rolling his eyes again, Andrew said, "You really _are _from a small-town, aren't you? No one gets married nowadays just because they're in love. I mean, look at Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. They have, what, ten kids—"

"Six," Serena corrected.

"—and they're doing just fine. They're living together and managing a family together…they don't need marriage."

"But—" Serena began to protest.

"Besides, after I saw what Darien went through with _his_ marriage, I don't think I want to put myself in that situation. Ever."

Her heart stopped.

Serena told herself to breathe, but she couldn't. Her mind was on overdrive, going haywire with the little bit of information Andrew had just leaked out to her about Darien's marriage. Was it failing? God she hoped it was.

She took that back, mentally cursing herself for being so evil and selfish.

What was wrong with Darien's marriage? Serena wondered.

Her hands were shaking. She hoped Andrew couldn't see them. Fighting the throbbing swell of emotion in her chest, Serena wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and took a long gulp from it to regain some semblance of order to her mind and body.

When her heart began beating again, the painful lurch from the morning had returned.

"What…what about Darien's marriage?"

Serena wanted to strangle herself. She could not believe she just asked that question! It was none of her business. None of her business at all. She had made that decision when she found out that Darien was married. She wasn't going to ask him to explain or tell her anything about his wife. In fact, part of that decision was to never see him again, either, but…she had also failed in that department.

"I really shouldn't be discussing this with you," Andrew whispered, looking around the crowded room.

Serena was chastened, somewhat ashamed with herself. She was just about to tell Andrew that she had changed her mind; she didn't want to know anything about Darien's marriage; when he returned his attention back to her, leaned forward and said:

"But because I like you—what the heck? Why not?"

And then he began. "Darien met his wife, Vanessa Wellington—you know who Vanessa Wellington is right? The hotel heiress of the Wellington Hotels?"

That's when it clicked to Serena. Yesterday, the hotel Darien and she had gone to, to pick up Aiden was a Wellington hotel. Of course, no wonder why, Serena thought bitterly—his wife's family owned the entire chain of resorts.

When she nodded, Andrew continued. "Darien met Vanessa at the Academy Awards dinner about nine years ago. He had just won his first Oscar for a song he wrote for the movie _Moon Princess,_ and being so young at the time, was getting a lot of attention from the media. Everyone wanted to talk to him, everyone wanted to work with him, everyone wanted a piece of him. And that included spoiled hotel-heiress Vanessa."

From the way Andrew sneered the last part, it made Serena think he didn't like Darien's wife much.

"I've been Darien's friend since high school," Andrew explained, "and so I know exactly how he get's like when he's besotted with a girl—"

Serena tried her best not to show her true emotions. She really didn't need Andrew becoming suspicious as to why she was turning green with jealousy as he recounted the story of Darien's marriage. It would only complicate matters even more; and if he were to ever find out about her liaisons with Darien, it would cost her, her career.

"And so he fell in love with her?" She concluded, hoping he didn't hear the note of cynicism in her voice.

"Hardly," Andrew spat. "Do you think Darien is the shallow type? He can't stand girls like Vanessa, honestly. She's too stupid for him."

"But he married her—"

Andrew laughed at her face; mistaking her poorly hidden contempt for astonishment.

"Can you stop it with the small-town girl, crap? You're killing me here."

She frowned at him.

"No one marries for love these days—well at least they think its love and then after the honeymoon they find out that they actually hate each other more than they love each other."

"Then why did he marry her?" Her brows were drawn together in a quizzical frown. She was desperate to know, dying to know. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Because she got pregnant."

"Aiden—" Serena gasped; her complexion turning stark white.

Andrew looked at her in astonishment. "Yeah, how did you know? I didn't think Darien told you about his son—I mean, he hardly even says a word to you when we're working in the studio."

Mentally cursing herself, Serena came up with a quick lie. "Um, it was the elevator."

"The elevator?" Andrew looked at her as if she were insane.

And she was. Insane, of course. She was insane for loving a married man, insane for talking to her boss about this married man whom she loved, and insane for wanting to know more.

"We ran out of things to say in the elevator the other day while we waited to get to the downstairs lobby, and so he told me about his son."

Her lie seemed to be good enough, because Andrew accepted it, smiling. "Darien does love that kid." Serena expelled a silent sigh of relief. _That_ was a close one.

"So then what happened?"

"From what Darien told me, Vanessa had been pushing him to propose long before she got pregnant. They had only been going out for a few months, and he told her flat out that he wasn't interested. That all changed, of course, when she came to him one day and told him she was pregnant with his child. Darien didn't love Vanessa; he told me that he had been honest about his feelings with Vanessa, and that she said she understood. It was all only supposed to be special award shows and sex—but fatherhood somehow got thrown into the equation and Darien, like the gentleman that he is, accepted his responsibility, and married Vanessa."

Andrew shifted in his seat. "Darien wanted to put aside all his dislike for Vanessa and start on a new slate. He honestly was willing to make their marriage work—"

"But what happened?" Serena's voice squeaked.

"Vanessa transformed into a total bitch during her pregnancy. I mean, I understand that women go through mood swings—but all her nastiness intensified as her nine months progressed."

"Darien once told me she even said that she hated the unborn baby and that she'd much rather prefer aborting it than to give birth to it."

Serena was horrified.

"After she had Aiden, she refused to see him or hold him."

"How could she?" Serena demanded, feeling anger rise in her. "She is his mother!"

Andrew nodded. "Vanessa is a self-absorbed bitch. You only have to meet her to know why she refused to acknowledge her own child. She hated the fact that she gained weight during her pregnancy, she was always very proud of her slim form. She hated the pain and the restriction that her pregnancy put on her life—she couldn't go clubbing or go drinking. And most of all, I think that what really made up her mind to hate her child was the whole process of giving birth in itself. She considered it a self-sacrifice for her to have gone through the birthing for Darien."

The room was spinning. She thought she was going to be sick. Serena could feel bile rush in her throat. But even as she tried to fight down the nausea, she did nothing for the instantaneous and powerful urge to find Vanessa Wellington and bring physical harm unto her.

"It hurt Darien a lot. He had hoped that once Aiden was born, the child would help to breach the gap between him and Vanessa. But it didn't. It got worse."

"Why didn't he divorce her?"

"He tried to."

"And?"

"Vanessa said that she would file for full custody of Aiden and give Darien no visiting rights."

It dawned on her then. Everything was making sense now. All the missing puzzle pieces falling into place. She understood.

It never made sense to her why Darien was such a contradiction. How he was such a good, kind, giving soul and at the same time a cheating, lying rake.

Anger and sorrow coursed through her nervous system until she was shaking from the raging emotions. She felt like crying. She had said such mean things to Darien—such mean, spiteful things. Why didn't he tell her? Why didn't he say any—

He had tried. She remembered. He had tried to tell her about his evil wife, but she…she didn't let him. She _wouldn't_ let him. She had _screamed_ at him, "What is there left to explain!" She had been so…vicious…and yet he had come to her, _begged_ her to understand. Oh, God, Serena groaned. Her heart bursting; ill at ease.

Everything. He wanted to explain to her everything, and she…she pushed him away. How could he possibly still want her? How could he possibly still wish to put his tattered heart and pride at risk on her after the way she so brutally tore them to shreds?

She wouldn't. If she were in his place, she wouldn't put herself in such jeopardy for an impulsive, naïve teenager. But _he_ was. She tried to understand, couldn't understand, didn't understand—why was Darien still married to Vanessa? She was a horrid mother; from what Serena saw the other day, shopping had greater priority to the woman than her own son's hunger. She didn't care about Aiden. Empty threat. That's what it was. Vanessa didn't want anything to do with Aiden; why would she file for custody?

Darien must have known that. No. She was sure he _knew_ it. That was the perplexing part about the situation. Why did he continue their sham marriage for nine years?

Blinking back tears, her voice rose from her painfully tight throat like a tremulous croak. "I don't get it. If Vanessa hated Aiden so much, why would she want full custody of him?"

Andrew sighed; his expression sad. "Women can be quite vindictive when it comes them getting what they want. Vanessa is among the most malicious. She knows Darien's weakness, she knows how much he loves his son, and so she's using it against him."

"But Darien would win the custody battle—"

With another derisive snort, Andrew grunted, "Serena, think about what you're saying. A custody battle? Darien is a high profile man; do you know what a custody battle could do to him? It could really damage S&F Records, and like the God damned "good guy" that he is, he's unwilling to let his personal life interfere with the business. He doesn't want to bring me down with him."

Brushing back a strand of hair from her face, Serena watched in anguish as Andrew spoke. In all the months she had spent with Darien, she had never really _known _him at all. Sharp, painful visions of the beauty of their lovemaking assaulted her already guilty conscience—he had so unselfishly given himself, held back his own pleasure to make sure she got hers, that it never came to her mind that he was holding the entire world on his shoulders. He gave, and gave, and gave, never asking her to give him anything in return, when really he couldn't, shouldn't be spreading himself so thinly. _He _was the one who deserved to be loved and cherished and attended to so unselfishly—not she.

"Darien is a strong man, Serena," Andrew said somberly, "He takes care of his problems all by himself, and he locks it in him—all the pain, hurt and anger. I honestly believe he lives by the true meaning of "what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger"; because, although he's been through a lot of hard times, he's managed to get over it and move on a greater, wiser man."

"Plus," Andrew clipped; his eyes narrowing into slits, "Don't kid yourself, Serena. In the real world, good things don't always happen to good people. Darien wouldn't win a custody battle against Vanessa even with his good reputation."

Her hands were halfway to her cup when his last sentence stopped her short. She stared at the man seated across from her long and hard, contemplating the fury that emanated from him. 

There was such extreme loyalty stamped upon the set of Andrew' s jaw, and such reverence in his voice as he spoke of his friend, that Serena felt immediately ashamed of herself.

She didn't deserve Darien (not that he was ever hers to begin with). He deserved better. He only deserved to be surrounded by people like Andrew, who had immense faith in him, and love and respect. She couldn't give him that respect—he had asked for her to listen to him, but she had written him off as a lying lecher. She wasn't even fit to touch his shoes.

Serena's hands tightened around her cup, and the muscles in her throat convulsed in a sob. "Why do you say that?" She feigned mild interest, but to her ears it was all wrong; she was too nasally, as though she had something congested in her nose.

Regarding her with a soft smile, Andrew answered, watching her lift the cup to her lips, "Why do I say that Darien would lose? Because California is biased towards women. Statistics show that in a custody battle between father and mother in California, in ninety-five percent of the battles, the women get's the child. Darien would never win; he can't and he won't. And Aiden means too damned much to him for him to put up the risk of filing for a divorce and losing custody. He knows it, and so does Vanessa."

Serena's cup crashed to the floor. Her whole body was shaking in quick, acute spasms. And as the whole truth sank into her mind, she shook her head, denying Andrew's words, hoping he was wrong.

"Serena?" Andrew's voice broke through her haze. "Serena, what's wrong?"

Wild eyes turned to him, and Andrew felt a chill travel down his spine. There was a haunted, almost pained look there, and he didn't know what the cause of it was.

"I've got to go…" Her voice was faint.

Andrew grabbed her hand, concerned etched in his face, as she stood. "Is something the matter?"

"I-I have to go; I forgot I had to do something," she replied, her eyes still wild and far away. She pulled her hand out of his grip.

"Are you sure there isn't—Serena! Hey, Serena!" Andrew shouted after her, but it was too late. She was gone; out the door, and out of sight.

* * *

She had been running. That much was apparent to Darien as he opened the door. With her golden blonde hair in a windswept mass behind her shoulders, her entrancing blue eyes glazed and distant, cheeks rosy and flushed, and pale white complexion, he thought she looked like a marvelously rumpled princess. He had to struggle with the urge to pull her into his arms.

"What are you—?" He started to ask, watching her rising and falling chest as she panted heavily, before she nearly tackled him down, throwing her arms around his neck to kiss him soundly on the lips.

It wasn't an unpleasant surprise. In fact it was the exact opposite. He was, at first, too shocked to see her to react, but as he felt her hands snake up into his hair, and her warm, soft lips devouring his, he let his instincts take control.

With the hunger of a starving man he feasted on her lips, opening his mouth over hers, taking her trembling bottom lip between his to suckle. It was a carnal, possessive kiss, filled with longing, need, and desperation. As his mouth slanted sensually against hers, urging her to open for him, he got lost in the beautiful sound of their combined heavy breathing. Tracing his tongue along the seams of her mouth, he began his penetration into her wet warmth, groaning as she opened to take him in.

Serena moaned in response to the hot, branding kiss. The heady state of her mind took over, and she became mindless to everything but the pleasure of his tongue dancing with hers, playing with hers, thrusting with hers. Fitting her body to his hard length, she shivered deliciously as wave after wave of hot desire coursed through her.

His hands knew her body so well, that they easily travelled along her lithe form. With one arm he wrapped it around her waist and pulled her tighter, if that were possible, against him, and with the other, he cupped her straining breast, which was pressed invitingly against his hard chest.

This was not a dream. Oh God, he hoped so. He had been fantasizing so much about Serena lately, that it was hard for him now to determine the difference between what was real and what wasn't. But this had to be real. He could feel her warmth, taste her lips, hold her body—she was _really_ in his arms. It was unbelievable. She was here, _here_ in his apartment, kissing him, and stroking him, and…and why was she here?

Serena groaned as he pulled away, and as pleased as he was by that, he couldn't help but wonder why the sudden change of heart.

It took all his control and self-restraint not to lower his head to hers and kiss her again as he stared down at her dreamy, lustful eyes.

"Why?" He was at a lost of words; the bemusement apparent in his heavyset frown. His hands were settled on her waist, holding her close to him in fear she might turn around and leave.

The look in her eyes changed. The stormy clouds of desire that were once there immediately evaporated, and in its place was, Darien was afraid to believe it, love. Or at least deep affection. She was looking at him as though he was the most spectacular thing she had ever laid eyes on, and he couldn't resist kissing her one more time, swiftly and thoroughly.

He wasn't satisfied, but neither was she, and so he was content by her frustrated glare as he pulled away again.

"Answer me," he demanded; this time his voice was stronger, urgent.

Under his intense stare, Serena expelled a shaky, nervous breath, looked away, and then said, "I think you should close your door first."

Darien flicked an annoyed glance at his open doorway and pushed the door close. "Tell me," he insisted. "Serena, stop trying to pull away from me—look at me," when she did, he continued, "Why are you here? You made it pretty clear last night that you didn't want—"

"I know," she interrupted, breathless. Raking a hand through her bangs, she tried to find the right words to answer him. His eyes bore into hers like hot coals searing her soul. It was slightly unnerving, but also, very, very pleasing. She liked the way he looked at her; always so possessive and intense, as though she was all he could see.

"Can we talk in the family room?" She asked, her eyes darting towards the stairs.

"Aiden's not awake yet," he replied to her silent question, but he relented and led her down the hall and around the corner into a dimly lit room.

"Darien, I know about Vanessa." She blurted it out, the words simply slipping from her mouth like charged liquid, even before they had sat down. Serena had not intended to be so blunt, but the words just…came out.

He froze. To her, he looked like a marble Roman statue, beautiful, but also forbidding.

"I'm so sorry..." she started, but then he turned around and she saw the most chilling look in his eyes, a look so cold and furious she felt as though she had been slapped in the face. She took a step back away from him.

"So is that why?" He sneered, following her retreating form. "You feel _sorry_ for me? You heard about my wife and so you felt so sorry for me you had to come running to give me your sympathy?"

"No!" Serena denied, shaking her head. "No, please, Darien, listen to me. It's not that; it's not what you think—"

"Oh, it isn't, my sweet?" His voice was deceptively calm, but his handsome, granite face was furious.

"I—I don't feel sorry _for _you," she implored, her eyes beseeching. "Darien, please understand!" She was in a panic.

"Oh, really? Then what, pray tell, do you feel _so_ sorry about?" He mocked, the cynical glint in his eyes were petrifying.

"Darien, I don't feel sorry _for _you, I'm sorry about the way I've _treated_ you."

He had not expected that. He had expected anything, _anything_, but that. Immediately his expression softened, and he exhaled a strained breath. Pity was the last thing he wanted from Serena. Not only did it make him angry, but it hurt him. He didn't understand why it was so agonizing, but it was, and he couldn't bare it.

She had said that she was sorry for the way she had treated him. He wanted to laugh. The silly girl. If anyone should be sorry, it should be him not her. His heart swelled with tenderness. He had delegated her to the status of a social climbing mistress, and yet _she_ was the one who was apologizing.

"And how many times do I have to tell you to stop looking at me like that? It's unnerving."

Darien grinned at her surly tone. "Serena, have I told you lately how refreshing I think you are?"

Serena shook her head, watching him, setting his hands on his jean-clad waist, and replied, "No, in fact, you've never told me that."

His brows rose in wonderment, and Serena thought he looked positively sexy. "Well in that case," he drawled, "Serena, I find you positively refreshing."

She threw back her head and laughed. "Why thank you," she chortled.

With the precision of a hawk on a hunt, Darien's slow, languorous stare did not miss one curved or flat plane of Serena's body as he studied her. When his eyes returned to hers, the intensity of what she saw there, wiped away the remaining traces of laughter on her face.

"You're doing it again," she muttered incoherently.

He smiled dazzlingly. "Why are you here Serena? You can't possibly be here just to say you're sorry."

The time had come. Drawing up as much courage as she could, Serena crossed the short distance between them and stopped right in front of him, her gaze never leaving his.

"I can tell you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, soft and sensual, "but I think it's best if I _show_ you instead."

Darien's breath caught. He had never before felt like an inadequate, inexperienced school boy—not even in his teen years—but as Serena raised herself on her tiptoes and leaned in towards him, he all of a sudden felt very…inept. The thought of making love to her had somehow become daunting. It _had _to be perfect. Anything less…and he'd be cheating her of what she deserved. That scared him.

He had never really cared much about his bed partners before; with them it had always been pleasurable, he had always made sure that they both climaxed, but never, _never_ in a million 

years, did he ever felt compelled to give them anything more but a satisfying release. With Serena it was different. Hell, everything about her was different.

When they kissed, it wasn't _just_ a kiss; it was a soul-searching connection. When they made love, it wasn't _just_ making love; it was a logic-obliterating, gravity-defying, forging of their two souls. Darien had never felt the need to please anyone more than he did when he was with Serena. She was special.

Her lips were warm and gentle against his. He inhaled her scent, loving the way she smelled, as she pressed her hands on his chest and leaned in towards him. He loved the way her body felt against his. It just felt right, like she belonged there.

And then he was kissing her back; pinning her body to him, slanting his mouth over hers in a wildly erotic open-mouth kiss. Her hands clenched into tight fists against his white button-up shirt as he continued to assault her mouth with hard, unrelenting kisses. She was shaking with pleasure, and was sure that if he wasn't holding her so closely, her rattling knees would have sent her to the floor already.

Before she realized it, Serena felt herself being laid down over Darien's comfy bed mattress. She didn't even remember how they had made it up the stairs, but there she was, with her shirt gone and jeans off, her fingers trying unsuccessfully to unbutton Darien's top.

With steady hands, Darien grabbed her shaking fingers, placed them on the zipper of his jeans, and roughly jerked his shirt apart.

At Serena's surprised expression, he laughed and murmured in a husky voice laden with sexuality, "Don't worry, darling, I've got plenty more shirts to ruin."

Discarding his clothing, Darien settled himself beside her, propped on his elbow. His eyes studied her with great admiration, taking in the heavy swell of her full breasts in a pink braw, down to her flat, toned stomach, over the little, matching pink triangle cloth covering her center, down to her long, shapely legs, and finally back up to her flushed, embarrassed face again.

"You're beautiful."

Serena melted. It wasn't exactly _what_ he said, but _how_ he had said it that totally destroyed her resolve, stripped her of her inhibitions. The aching, rawness of his voice was so…shattering.

Turning her body in his direction, she splayed her hand against his hot velvet skin on his chest, sliding her palm up and down. She watched as a fire began to blaze in his eyes as his gaze dipped to where she was caressing him, and she shivered in anticipation.

"Make love to me."

Darien's eyes flashed at her softly spoken request. "Are you sure, Serena?"

She nodded, unable to find words that could explain to him how much she wanted this, how much she wanted _him_.

With restraint only gained through years of hard experience, Darien sat up and turned away from Serena, who stared at back in shocked disappointment. It nearly killed him to do so, but he had to. He didn't want to make love with her if she was going to regret it later on. That's what he had done in the first place, and she had refused to see him for three weeks. He didn't want to make that same mistake.

"Serena, I'm going to ask you one more time, and I want you to think about it, and I mean, think hard about it, before you answer."

"Are you sure?" He asked again.

Serena understood what he was doing, but thought it was unnecessary. It was over. She was no longer fighting. This was right. It didn't matter to her anymore that he was a married man, because…she was hopelessly and irreversibly in love with him. She knew that being with him was _right_. There was no undoing it.

Darien flinched at the touch of Serena's hand against the corded muscles of his shoulders. She was gently caressing him, massaging his taught, tense skin. It took everything in his power not to turn around and push her down into the mattress and simply take her.

"Serena…" he growled in a low warning.

He shuddered as he felt her lightly kiss his shoulder blade, then his shoulder, and finally the base of his neck.

"I love you," the tenderly whispered confession into his ear sent Darien into a shock.

"What?" He turned around so fast Serena fell back onto the mattress.

His eyes were searching hers, and she let him see it. "I love you," she repeated, this time, more firmly, but with all the same reverence and pride that she felt.

And then he was laying over her; kissing her, touching her, holding her. He quickly stripped her of her undergarments, tossing them across the room. They were skin against skin, and Serena reveled in his hard muscular body against hers.

"Hold me, Serena," he said fervently as he nudged her legs apart in preparation for his penetration. When he felt her arms wrap firmly around him, he drove into her full length, deriving a whimper of pleasure from Serena's lips.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He grunted as he felt her hot wet warmth encase him.

"Oh God, Darien, what are you waiting for?" She groaned, wriggling her hips against his. Her nails dug into the flesh of his back, urging him to continue.

Darien laughed, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. "Getting impatient, aren't we?"

"Darien, stop teasing—uh," she broke off in a strangled moan as Darien pulled himself back, almost out of her, and then thrust back deep into her. In and out he went, and with each penetration, he drove her higher and higher towards paradise.

Tossing her head back against the plush pillow, Serena moaned in ecstasy as Darien began to trail hot kisses from her lips to her neck.

"Say it again, Serena," she heard him breathe against her skin, and she knew he needed to hear the words.

"I love you, Darien," she replied in a broken sob.

Everything changed then. Darien's control snapped. Shoving his hands into her hair, Darien held her captive for a plundering kiss. For a moment, she was shocked by his ardor, but then quickly matched his passion, provocatively thrusting her breast against his hand. He too was shocked. Never before had he ever been so out of control, never before had he ever felt the need to take total possession.

There was an urgency in his movements as he rocked his hips back and forth above her, his lips rough and tender against her breast. And as he continued to withdraw and plunge into her tight warmth, he whispered heated words of encouragement and praise. With controlled power, his tempo became faster and harder, until she was clutching him in wild abandon. On and on it went, until Serena thought she was going to explode from the soul-destroying bliss he was giving her.

He was moving his hips in the way he know would give her the most pleasure. Pushing her towards it, driving her towards it, bringing her towards it—until he felt her jerk and tremble, and heard her cry out in rapture. And with one final, hard thrust he joined her in heaven.

Afterwards, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled to his side. They fell asleep like that.

* * *

They had made love twice more in the following hour, and each time, Serena realized, was more wonderful than the last.

It was ten o'clock, and fearing that Aiden may wake up at any moment, Serena wrestled her way out of Darien's arms and headed for the adjoined bathroom to clean herself up.

She did not feel any guilt. Not even the slightest qualm. Instead she felt completely, and utterly…happy. Yes, she was very happy.

And sexually sated.

Climbing into the shower, she quickly washed. When she was done, she grabbed a towel off of the stack piled on the shelf and wrapped it around herself. She had forgotten how good it had been between Darien and she. Well…at least she had _tried_ to forget. But her memory did no justice to the beauty of their lovemaking.

After finding all her scattered pieces of clothes, Serena dressed in the bathroom. The mirrors were covered by a sheet of fog, and so she used her towel to clear the glass. And what she saw, staring back at her, almost made her scream.

Serena felt two strong arms wrap around her and froze as she saw Darien's reflection in the mirror. He was smiling at her in the mirror, looking sexy with his hair all tousled as though he had just had sex…which he did.

Registering her horrified expression, Darien quirked an eyebrow and inquired, "Something wrong?"

Trying to contain her anger, Serena prayed for patience and turned around in Darien's arm to give him a kiss on his cheek. "Yes," she replied tersely, "There is something wrong."

"What?" He asked with concern; tilting her chin up towards him with his finger and thumb to look her in the eyes.

"I _hate_ hickies," she growled, and she pointed to the purplish bruise on the side of her neck.

* * *

**End Note: **Do you guys get it? Get it? Oh well, if you don't then don't worry about it. Well, you must tell me, how was it? Was it horrible? Come on, review!

**IMPORTANT:** I think _Twilight_ fans are so insanely crazy that they look for it in everything they read--honestly people, there's a world outside of _Twilight_.


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